


Withered Vines

by PlumTea



Series: Horror A La Carte [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Horror, Fairy Tale Elements, Final Haikyuu Quest, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12491036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: A servant is sent down to the dungeons to be the demon king's new attendant.





	Withered Vines

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: Official Art  
> vampire vs zombie / **demon vs knight** / three meat cleavers vs two hands ???  
>  For [Iwaoi Horror Week!](https://iwaoi-horror-week.tumblr.com/)

_A long time ago, in a place far away, there was a demon king. The demon king had a truly monstrous heart, and his wicked rule spread to his armies and confidants._

_When all hope was lost, and the land had resigned itself to grow cold, a hero of light stepped up. Together with a mage, a healer, a disgraced general, and a former knight of the royal guard, the hero charged into the palace and faced the demon king._

_After a great battle, the hero destroyed the demon king’s castle, and freed the land from his terror. He ushered in a new era of peace, one that has lasted to this day._

_—So goes the tale._

* * *

 

A servant-boy is on guard duty, and the plate of food wobbles as he descends the stairs to the dungeon. Past the normal cells, and into a corridor hidden in the shadows is a cell with three layers of thorny bars. For a moment he thinks that maybe his lord told him to go to the wrong place, that maybe-

“Come closer. Don’t be afraid.”

In the slim of the dark, the servant-boy sees a young man bound to a slope of curved stone. It might have been comfortable, had it not been for the chains wound around his neck, wrists, and ankles. A thick blindfold is across his eyes, secured against two curved horns. Even if there are three layers of thorny cages between them, the servant-boy feels like he’s being chewed on.

“Are you my new attendant? What’s your name?”

In a fit of bravery, the servant-boy shouts, “I have no name to give to a demon!”

“Clever. Had you given me your name, I would have charmed and killed you. You would have walked right up a tower and straight out the window without fear.”

A crackled sound comes from the servant-boy’s mouth as he watches death in the cage before him.

“—Not. I’m just kidding, just kidding! These ugly chains drain my magic, and there’s five layers of wards between me and the door. I can’t even light a match. It gets really cold down here, you know!”

The servant-boy finds himself unable to find words. When he does, he stumbles. “I-I’ll be serving your meals from now on. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Oikawa. Nice to meet you too, little servant-chan.”

* * *

 

It’s long after the soup bowl has been emptied that the servant-boy remembers that he needs to bring the tray back to the kitchens. He politely excuses himself, and starts to stand.

“Are you sure? You can stay a little while longer. I’ve had so many attendants, but finally, one who actually speaks to me!”

“It’s normal to have conversation over dinner,” the servant-boy replies, remembering all his lessons in etiquette. “You must have had very rude attendants.”

“Yes! Very rude!” Oikawa huffs, and the servant-boy wonders if this is really a demon.

“You must be lonely,” said the servant-boy. He feels embarrassed by his boldness, but he also thinks this is what it must be like to be brave.

“Lonely…” mumbles Oikawa. “Hm. I wonder.”

* * *

 

“Why do they keep you in these chains?” The servant-boy understands that his lord doesn’t want Oikawa to get out, but there’s no reason he needs to be kept so far away from everyone else, especially if he can’t use magic.

“To them I am,” Oikawa frowns, and his nails scrape the stone below them, “a convenient prisoner. A battery.”

The servant-boy blinks, not understanding.

“We demons have great amounts of magical energy, and by comparison, you humans have so little. There’s no better way to get magic than to harvest from a fresh source. You aren’t the only one who visits me, little servant-chan. There’s no reason any part of a demon should go to waste. My hair for rope, my blood for potions, my saliva for reagents, my nails for arrowheads. When I die, they will use my bones to make more weapons. Probably turn my meat into familiar food. They take what they want, and then leave.”

Only once he breathes again does the servant-boy realize that he’s shivering. “They can’t do that.”

“Yes, they can. I’m a horrible demon. I’m their prisoner, their property. They think they can do whatever they want to me.”

“If only you didn’t have that blindfold on,” the servant-boy huffs, “Then you’d see how horrible things are, and you’d want to leave. But don’t look at me. Everyone knows demons can curse with their eyes.”

Oikawa merely shakes his head. “My eyes were one of the first things they took. Apparently they’re prime material for clairvoyance potions. This blindfold is to collect my tears when I cry. You can harden them and turn them into crystals, supposedly. So don’t worry, I’ll never be able to see what you look like.”

* * *

 

The servant-boy finds that his new job isn’t terrible. For all the gruesome things he’s heard, the demon in chains is quite charming. Oikawa has a lot to say, and is in fact, quite lonely.

“How long have you been down here?” he asks one day.

“Long enough that your stories of me have become tales and not history.”

Oikawa tells him of magic, of velvet curtains and crystal balls that let him peek into constellations of possibilities. He speaks of the setting sun and how the night brings out creatures beyond human sight.

Most of all, he speaks of his knight, who was once the head of his royal guard, and his most dearly beloved best friend. When Oikawa would talk of this knight, his face would relax, like he felt a warm sunbeam in a winter’s day. His words are harsh, but filled with endless fondness. The knight was a brute, but rational, and more bold than the strongest vine stretching through the earth. The knight went on many adventures in service of his king, and could cleave the clouds in half. He wouldn’t shiver in the cold. He was a kind, brave soul.

“It sounds like you really love this knight of yours!” the servant-boy says one day. He bites his tongue afterward, realizing how silly he must have sounded.

Oikawa stops talking, his smile frozen on his face. The cold is upon him once again.

 _Oh,_ thinks the servant-boy, _I must have said something awful._

* * *

 

“Iwa-chan was the best thing about my life, as stone-headed and stubborn as he was. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, lecturing some poor soul.”

“He’s a human, surely he’s long dead.”

“You’d think. But Iwa-chan was the only one who I ever wanted to look at. He gave me everything he had, and I gave him everything in return. The least I could do was grant him a long life.”

“That’s generous.”

“I didn’t want to see him die, that’s all.”

“Do you miss him?”

Oikawa’s smile is sad. “I could've escaped, back when the wards were young. It would have been so, so easy. But if I just left, then Iwa-chan would be angry at me. ‘Go back and serve your time!’ he’d tell me. So I couldn’t just leave.

“But now the wards are too strong. This kingdom has taken too much of my magic, and left me little in return. Iwa-chan would've come for me by now. He should've, but he hasn’t. I don’t think the elders even told him that I was alive. He’s not coming, and now it’s too late. I’m going to rot here forever. I’ll never see him again.”

Oikawa sighs, and his blindfold is wet with tears. “This was supposed to be my penance. Now it’s just torture.”

* * *

 

The servant-boy doesn’t mind being Oikawa’s attendant, as blasphemous as it sounds. He resolves to tell nobody of his thoughts, so he goes to his lord in the morning. “When will I stop watching over the man in the dungeons?” he asks, making his voice pained to sound like a good loyal servant, “When will I go back to serving you?”

“When your time is done and you have done well, we will give you more than that,” so says his lord. “For I will release you from my service. You can go home, with some money and my thanks.”

It’s the first thing the servant-boy tells Oikawa.

Oikawa laughs. “You don’t believe that, right?”

The servant-boy’s face heats up. Oikawa has laughed at him before, but never so demeaningly. “Why is that so funny?”

“Little servant-chan, do you really think they’re going to send you away? You’re so naive. You've seen me, you know that I exist, and am more than just a phantom in old stories. You know too much. As soon as you’re too old or not useful, they'll shoot an arrow in your back, and send the next attendant down. We’re both staying here, forever.”

“No,” breathes the servant-boy, who feels suddenly strangled.

“No? Then tell me, what did you, a simple servant-boy, do to deserve the high honor of watching over me? Were you the best servant in your group? Did the master like you a lot? How were you outstanding?”

A fevered anticipation crawls through the chest of the servant-boy. “I— I broke my lord’s prized vase.”

“You broke a vase,” repeats Oikawa, triumphant.

“How are you so sure?” shouts the servant-boy, even as doubt claws at him. “You’ve been down here forever!”

“I ran a country, didn’t I? Your family has already been told that you’re dead. They’ve conducted your funeral, and received compensation for your unfortunate death. Nobody is waiting for you. After all, that’s what I would do.”

* * *

 

The food the next day is flavored with tears. The servant-boy weeps, even if he knows he should be strong. He shouldn’t show weakness, but he doesn’t want to see these walls for years. He hates them already, dark and cold and unfeeling.

“How could you do it?” He finds he has no strength to lift the plate of food. “How can you just stay here, forever?”

“Patience, mostly.”

“I don’t have much of that,” the servant-boy admits.

“You have a knife, don’t you? Just in case you need to stop any sort of temptation.” The boy can hear the snicker in his words. “I know you do. Come here. Closer.”

His shoulders draw inward as the servant-boy carefully steps towards the bound demon and sits on the ground. He knows the demon can’t reach past the wards, but the lump of worry is still lodged deep in his throat.

“I have a plan to get us out of here.”

The servant-boy gasps. “Don’t say it out loud!”

“Why not? Nobody’s listening. They think there’s not much the dead can do.”

Nobody had ever followed the servant-boy down, not even to make sure he was safe. The hallways were long and twisting, but everyone chose to stay towards the sun. “Alright,” he says, with quiet desperation.

“Take your knife, and cut out my heart.”

Shoulders trembling, the servant-boy scrambles away. His face has turned pale, and he replies in a wavering voice, “No! I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Don’t you humans dream of killing demons? It’ll be easy, just like carving meat.”

Whatever the reason, the servant-boy finds himself hesitant.

“Don’t you want to be free?”

The knife at his hip is long and thin. He takes a deep breath, and plunges his knife deep into the demon’s chest.

He pulls out the heart, still pulsing. Even apart from the demon’s body, it beats healthy and red.

“Go ahead, eat it.”

“I’ve never eaten a heart before,” says the servant-boy.

It's chewy, and the meat is bitter but tastes slightly of rose water.

A death-rattle comes from Oikawa’s mouth like a sigh. The hole in his chest is wide and blood falls over his clothes like a fresh red sheet. “Finally,” he whispers, and goes still.

The servant-boy wipes the blood from his mouth. He stands, and feels like it’s the first time he’s used his legs in his life.

The castle walls crumble like sand. He runs out into the fields of reeds, faster than he can ever imagine, finally free of deep shadows and stone walls. Once he reaches the riverbank, he realizes he’s not sure where to go.

Then an image comes into his head, of a man he’s never seen before. Spiky-haired, an image of power beneath his armor, sharp unafraid eyes.

He tells his legs to _Go,_  and he knows he must find this man at any cost, no matter where he is.

_Further._

In his lakeside reflection, his eyes look brown, not blue. The fish he loved to snack on before seems too bitter, while sweet things are just right. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but his skin seems paler.

_Further._

He wonders when he got so tall. He wonders when the land folded out to the east.

Death and blood and conquest splatter the map, and he finds that not much has changed.

_Further._

There is a house close to the village, but far enough into the woods to be left alone. The woods open and close again and again, too maze-like for any wanderer to turn and give up. He would have gotten lost, had he not caught the traces of a thread-thin bond still clinging to his throat after all these years.

_Further._

He sees the knight, clothed in the sun, sitting on a stump. His presence is loud in the quiet clearing, for he’s seen many wars and all the shadows in murky leaves.

The knight turns to him, the exact image in his head, and he opens his mouth wordlessly as he takes in long pale limbs, soft brown hair, and curved horns.  

Oikawa’s heart pricks as he steps forward. “It’s been a while, Iwa-chan.”


End file.
